Code Lyoko: REvolution
by Panophobe Productions
Summary: Michael Laas, an American teen from the state of Georgia, has earned the honor of attending an educational facility in England. His flight is peaceful, until a freak storm glitches his plane, but otherwise does not harm it or the passengers. When Michael arrives, he soon meets a gang of interesting kids he soon calls friends. Together, they soon find themselves deep in a mystery.
1. Chapter 1

I awoke to a low rumbling sound, followed by the chattering noises of multiple passengers. At least half of them had an accent of some sort and the other half weren't speaking English whatsoever. A low bell-tone rang once from above me as I sit up.

"Attention passengers, thank you for choosing Delta Airlines Flight 101 to London. The current time is twelve-sixteen AM. In approximately nine hours we will arrive at Heathrow Airport in London," the voice of a woman who I assumed was the head flight attendant echoed over the intercom. I reached into the pocket of my black leather jacket, took out a few folded sheets of paper and opened them.

_Michael Laas_

_12 July, 1999_

_This is to certify that Michael Laas may be admitted from his/her school in Dallas, Georgia US to his/her new educational facility in Dover, England. Michael's educational abilities have met/exceeded the expected results of his/her respected school Criteria Referenced Test. Michael may begin his/her studies at Keybourne Academy upon his/her arrival to said location, which will be no later than: 31 July, 2014. Michael's educational, medical, psychological and legal records are enclosed in the forms attached._

_Henry J Leonard _

_Jeanie L Stubelt_

_Head of School Board Parent/Guardian_

Don't get the wrong idea. Jeanie Stubelt is my biological mother. I was never put up for adoption or anything. She was simply remarried to a man named Todd Stubelt when I was six. As for my father, Adam (whom I loathe), I can say something similar. He was remarried back in 2010 to some woman even less mentally stable than himself. That's really saying something.

I looked the document over once more, my eyes constantly expressed the exhaustion that the rest of my body felt, and folded the paper back into a neat square. Then, yawning under my breath, I slipped it back into my pocket and leaned backwards into my soft, blue chair. There were but two things on my mind at that moment: sleep and food. No, three: I had to set my RAZR to airplane mode. Before I could make another movement, I stretch my arms over my head, resulting in the pleasant and surprisingly satisfying sound of my vertebrae audibly popping into realignment, along with the joints in my arms. I nearly touched the head of the woman sitting in a seat behind me. I couldn't make out any details of her, and honestly, I found her irrelevant.

Bringing my arms back towards my torso, I reached into the pocket neatly lining the inside of my leather jacket. My fingers tightly gripped the cellular device inside and I slipped it out. It was a nice, albeit old phone. It was still a smartphone nonetheless. My thumb felt for the ridged lock button, which I pressed upon its location, and the device's screen lit up. I'm not going to lie to you: my background was a Rainbow Dash live wallpaper. I didn't care whether or not I was catching glances from other passengers, and frankly I didn't care about anything at that point. I was too tired. And hungry. And willing to deactivate my connection to the internet for the 'safety' of other passengers, even though I still believe that the thought that a cell phone's frequency interrupts a passenger plane's communications equipment is a load of bullcrap.

I held the button down for a few seconds, and the screen dimmed to reveal several uninteresting options and actions. Simply, I pressed my thumb on the screen where a small airplane-shaped symbol lay. The bars representing the status of my connection disappeared from the screen, and I pressed the lock button once more, causing the screen to blacken once more. I slid the phone back into my jacket and lay in place as the intercom began to vocalize yet again.

I tuned this out and prepare for the craft to take off from the strip. My suspicions are confirmed as the hum of the engines grew into a menacing roar, and the center of gravity started to shift towards the back of the cabin. For about a minute or so this persisted, until the jet began to level. The pull of gravity moved back towards the floor, and the flight attendants began their rounds. I yawned once more and, as if sensing my hunger, one of the attendants approached me.

"Would you like some peanuts, sir?" she asked responsibly. Despite my general dislike for airplane food, I nodded in response to this. She handed me a small, red plastic bag marked with 'King's Lightly Salted Peanuts' on the front. I gingerly ripped the container open and poured its contents into the palm of my hand. There wasn't much inside, but it was certainly enough to keep me from starving. I crumpled the bag in my free hand and stuffed it into a pocket, and then downed the handful of peanuts in less than a few seconds. Apparently, either peanuts are a sleep aid, or I was more exhausted than I thought. I instantly fell asleep; my snoring probably annoyed the other passengers, but hey, can't please the whole world.

I awoke once again, this time to the sound of thunder. I looked around to make sure it wasn't some DVD playing, or a joke. I found many passengers looking out their windows, or turning up their MP3 players, some even stirred or woke up as well. One woman was panicking and yelling in some other language, French perhaps. I didn't know the time but I merely hoped that we were approaching Heathrow.

Soon my fears were acknowledged by the weather, and the storm surrounding our tiny jet began to worsen. The lightning lashed out across the sky, revealing an endless plain of water. The resulting thunder crackled and echoed around the cabin, half scaring the life out of me. The effect it had on my eardrums was astonishing: I could tell that the bolt was nearby. I looked outside to find pure black; I quickly pulled my phone out, powering up its screen and holding it to the window. As I put the screen to the window I was met with a blinding flash of blue and purple, causing me to jump back. A few seconds later the intercom came on once again, this time under the command of one of the pilots. His voice seemed like it would normally be very calm, like a deep and official tone. At this time, however, I could tell he was trying to mask the panic that was growing inside of him.

"Passengers, we... we seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties here."

Then came the voice of his partner, though much fainter. It was obvious that what he was saying wasn't meant to be heard. This only added to the sense of impending doom.

"It's not shutting- it's not – it's not shutting down. Garrett, hit- hit the button!"

His stuttering made his fear obvious. A bit of muttering was heard from the passengers as they began to indulge in a common fear reaction: gossip. The words 'terrorist' and 'sick joke' were prominent among the chatter, which the flight attendants failed to silence. Soon, panic spread throughout the cabin as a virus spreads within a host body. The sounds of chatter suddenly stopped as lightning flashed outside the cabin, soon after the lights began to flash off and on. As quiet murmurs and whispers rose again, the ear shaking hum of the engines started to lower both in pitch and volume. The suddenly suspected was made horrifyingly obvious as small compartments in the ceiling fell open, and clear, yellow tipped masks dangled from above. A slight change in pressure became noticeable; a sure sign altitude was dropping like a bomb. I wasn't sure if the speed was as intense, but the calmness was. Passengers began to hyperventilate, and flight attendants scrambled for safety in any form. Another ironically peaceful DING was heard over the commotion.

"Attention, passenge-" the calm voice of the pilot was cut off by a more urgent voice.

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" the co-pilot yelled maniacally, which CERTAINLY helped matters. I was just about to strap the mask around my head when static and annoyed muttering came over the microphone again.

"We have experienced major mechanical problems in our systems; please ignore the deployed oxygen masks, as they are unnecessary at this time, it is requested that you secure your straps as the plane regains stability. Thank you for remaining calm, and thanks again for choosing DELTA airlines."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I fall to the tiled floor of the eastern wing of Keybourne Academy. Behind me, laughter, yelling, and the unpleasant smell of sweat and the taste of my own flowing blood. All of this is distorted by the throbbing of my certainly bruised cranium. I look behind me, my hands supporting my abdomen just above the ground. Before I can even blink, I see a large, black sneaker kick down upon my spine, making me scream in pain.

"Hey, Belmont! Ya havin' fu-" the boy's voice was interrupted by a loud metallic clang, followed by a snap and a thud as he hit the tile. I watched as the falling body revealed a short, lanky asian teenager with a fire extinguisher held in his grip.

"I don't know about him," the newest arrival to the scene said as he tossed the object to the side. "But that was fun."

The remaining bullies slowly backed away, before turning and fleeing away with haste, one of them tripping and hitting his nose upon the red extinguisher, causing a snap similar to the one the unconscious leader had made. Implying a similar injury.

"Bloody hell, Chang, you're gonna get our asses kicked out of the institution," I informed with obvious annoyance and anger, standing to my feet quickly. The lone boy simply nodded.

"It's all good in the hood, Adrian," Chang (better known as EC) replied with a casual tone of voice. "Now give me a sec, will ya? This guy owes me five pounds."

My jaw dropped.

"EC, you can't steal the bloke's pounds, we're on camera!" I exclaimed. In reply, EC simply produced a few small metallic and cylindrical objects from his bag, assembled them together and pointed it to the camera nearby. He pressed his thumb upon what I assumed was a button. A green tinted laser shot from the other end of the device.

"You were saying?" EC inquired with a smug grin, picking the pockets of the unlucky chap on the ground. "Lasers, Belmont. Learn about them! You are a nerd after all."

"I am not a nerd, Chang. I'm simply well-educated," I corrected. "Unlike you."

I instantly regretted that as EC aimed his laser at my right eye, blinding me as I instinctively looked away, closing my eyelids tightly.

"Dammit EC!"

As I regained vision, I caught a glimpse of the boy's shirt tail as he turned a corner further down the hall. His speed was incredible, but not surprising. He was a freerunner, or whatever he called it. I decided to stop wasting time and dash after him. A somewhat hard matter, but not impossible. After several twists and turns, I lost EC in the chemistry corridor. Of course, this wasn't a big problem. There was only one room that wasn't occupied at the moment, and my suspicions were confirmed when the door to room C-42 closed shut. EC was back to making chemicals.

"EC!" I pounded on the locked door, as I had done for the last five minutes. "Don't make me turn the damn sprinklers on!"

No response. No matter. I sat down, pulling out my netbook and smirking as I logged into the school's mainframe. The principal had everything automated. Air and heat units, certain doors, sprinkler systems, and bells. All connected to the Keybourne Automated Management System

"Five seconds you dolt, or I'll drown you out!"

Three seconds passed before I heard a satisfying click at the door.

"Take a joke, brit. I'm working here." EC said, a little offensively, as I entered in.


End file.
